


Bee Sting

by divenire



Series: Prompt Project [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action, Character Death, Drama, M/M, cursing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-11
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divenire/pseuds/divenire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dollyriot on tumblr prompted me: "Stiles is allergic to beestings and gets stung just as the alpha pack is attacking Derek’s house. "</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Dollyriot](http://dollyriot.tumblr.com/) prompted me: "Stiles is allergic to beestings and gets stung just as the alpha pack is attacking Derek’s house. BOOM."

It's a friday night in the middle of the summer and Stiles, instead of doing something fun, doing something normal, is spreading a circle of mountain ash around Derek Hale's house because somehow - he still doesn't know how, even if he replays the whole night in his head and he's done that about four times now - he, Derek, Scott and Isaac are trapped at the Hale House and waiting for the Alphas to arrive and attack. So Stiles is doing the only thing he actually can do. Spread a circle of mountain ash and believe in it strongly enough that the Alpha pack won't be able to get past it.

And suddenly, there's a quick, light pinch on the back of Stiles neck. It's so quick and so light he almost doesn't feel it. He almost doesn't think about it except for that when he smacks his hand at the back of his neck he feels something thick go squish. He closes his eyes, brings his hand to his face and peeks at his hand.

There's a dead bee in his hand.

The only thing he can think is: Fuck.

He throws the bee as far as he can and shudders all over. Then he looks down at his other hand, the one still holding the last bit of the mountain ash. The mountain ash he hasn't finished spreading around, the mountain ash that might very well be their only defense against the Alpha pack.

So he curses some more and he does the only thing he can think of. He takes a deep, shuddering breath and continues on. He figures he's got a while before it affects him, a few minutes at least, and then... well, he doesn't know what then. But either he goes down and hopefully Scott remembers the epi pen in the Jeep, or they all go down, and they all go down bloody.

So he picks the lesser of two evils and keeps going, speeding up his pace, focusing all of his energy on the mountain ash, on keeping the Alphas out and protecting the people he cares about; and he does not pay any attention to the way his skin feels like it's about to burn off because that's the level of itchy it is, it feels like it's burning, or the thick, heavy feeling in his throat.

It takes a few minutes, and it takes longer than it otherwise would have, but he finishes the circle and then, having completed his task, he lets himself pass out. Because no way does he want to be conscious for any of this if he can avoid it, and staying awake is taking too much damn effort anyway.

\---

Five seconds after Stiles passes out, Derek runs outside to see what's taking the kid so long. That's when he sees Stiles lying sprawled out on the ground, his face still and red and swollen and his eyes closed. Derek stands still as a stone for a second before running over and grabbing Stiles awkwardly before lifting him up and dragging him into the house.

"Scott!" Derek shouts as he lays Stiles down on the half-destroyed couch in the living room.

A second later Scott walks in, looks at Stiles and frowns. Isaac follows Scott in a second later.

"What's wrong with him?" Derek barks. He looks over at Stiles and fights back a nervous whine.

"He's allergic to bee stings." Scott tries to smile, to lighten the mood or something, but it only succeeds in making Derek more annoyed. This is not the time for smiling. This is not the time for making light of things. "But he's got an epi pen in the Jeep. I'll go get it," Scott says and without waiting for a response, he takes off for the Jeep and Isaac follows, leaving Derek alone with Stiles.

And Derek just stands there. He just stands there and stares at Stiles. He stares and he watches and he worries. And he can't say anything or do anything because he doesn't even know why it is he's so concerned. And he doesn't want to admit out loud that he's concerned. For Stiles.

Either way, he doesn't get a lot of time to think about it because a few seconds later Scott is running back in and he looks a lot more panicked then he looked before. Without any sort of explanation as to why, he says,"We can't get out."

"What?" Derek barks.

"We can't get past the mountain ash," says Scott.

Isaac looks over at Stiles and shakes his head disapprovingly. "Stiles... he must have been focusing on what he was doing so hard that he put more power into it than he intended to. So it worked. The Alphas can't get in. But we can't get out, either."

At that moment, Derek wants to hit himself. The Alphas. He almost forgot. Somehow, he almost forgot that there was a pack of Alpha werewolves coming to kill him, Isaac, his only loyal beta, Scott McCall, the kid who insists they're not packmates and yet keeps showing up anyway, and Stiles and whatever the hell he is.

Fuck.

He opens his mouth and closes his eyes and runs a hand through his hair. He's really not cut out for this. He might act like he has a clue, like he knows what he's doing, but the truth is he hasn't got a god damned clue. And he's not cut out for it. He's not cut out to be the one in charge, the one making decisions. Not when every decision he's ever made has lead him (and others) not just from good to bad, but from bad to worse.

He can hear it as Stiles' breath hitches in his throat. The kid doesn't have long like this. If they could get at the epi pen it'd be a relatively easy fix, but they can't get at the epi pen because the Jeep is parked just outside the line of mountain ash and they can't get across the line of mountain ash since the only person who can break it right now is the person who set it up and the person who set it up is currently unconscious and probably dying.

So they are, in a word, fucked.

"Fuck," he curses out loud hoping that saying it will help. It doesn't.

Stiles starts wheezing, gasping for breath and in that instant Derek panics.

So he does the only thing he can think of. He knows it's probably the wrong move but the only other one he's got available to him right now is to let Stiles die - because that's what's happening here, Stiles is dying, he'll asphyxiate if they leave him like this - and for whatever inexplicable reason the idea of Stiles dying makes him actually, physically sick to his stomach.

So he bolts across the room before Scott can say or do anything to stop him, drops his fangs and sinks them into Stiles' neck.


	2. Chapter 2

Slowly, Derek pulls his fangs back and starts licking at the wound on Stiles’ neck. He’s licking away the last of the blood when he’s forcefully pulled away. He whines and spins to face the person who pulled him away and he’s somehow shocked to see that it’s Scott. 

“What the hell?” Scott yells. 

Derek looks back at Stiles and just shrugs. He doesn’t know what to say to Scott. He doesn’t even really know why he did it. Or why he can’t stop staring at Stiles, watching as his chest rises and falls, rises and falls and then stutters. 

Derek closes his eyes and tries not to think about it, but he can’t help it. He’s going to die and now it’s because of you, good job. Just another fuck up for your record. You always do this. Why do you always do this? You couldn’t make a good decision to save your life. Couldn’t even stop to think about how this might also kill him, could you? No, you’re not smart enough for that, are you? Not smart enough to stop for five seconds. No, you just see something and you jump. And you fuck it up. And you wonder why nothing ever works out for you. And now he’s going to die because of you.

He opens his eyes because much as he doesn’t want to see this, he knows he has to see this, has to take it in otherwise he’ll just hate himself more and he’s not sure he can hate himself more than he already does and keep standing. 

He watches as Stiles slowly stops breathing, listens as his heart stops. He wants to cry and he wants to scream. He wants to let his wolf out and howl. He doesn’t do any of these things though. No, he just stands there and watches it happen with a practiced blank stare. Because above all, the most important thing is not to let anyone see anything, right? You’re pathetic, you know.

Behind him, Scott screams. Derek can hear him moving forward, springing to attack and he doesn’t move to stop him. He doesn’t fight against Scott - even though it’d be easy with how loud and clumsy Scott is being right now. He lets Scott tackle him to the ground and only barely fights back enough to trick Scott into thinking he’s not just letting him win. 

They can hear wolves howl outside and they stop fighting long enough to listen. After a second Scott goes back to pummeling Derek but he only gets about four more good shots in before Isaac is dragging Scott off of him and out towards the door with a muttered, “I know, I get it, I do, but come on. We’ve got to do this.”

Derek pauses, looks over at Stiles and heads outside with half of his brain screaming that he should go out and kill as many of these Alphas as he can and the other half screaming that maybe he should just let them kill him. 

He’s not sure which side will win out, but he’s about to find out, so it doesn’t really matter too much, does it?

He steps out the door and sees the Alphas charging up to the mountain ash line and they go flying back the instant they hit it. 

Isaac steps forward tentatively and pushes his hand out but he can’t move it past the line, either. 

Derek takes a few steps back and charges off the front porch like his legs have springs in them. He’s thrown back by the line and lands flat on his ass. 

The Alphas are pacing outside the line and snarling. He snarls back and so does Scott. 

\---

Stiles wakes up with a start and a snarl. He barely has time to think _wait, did I just... what? What was that?_ before he’s up on his feet and following a scent out the door. He doesn’t recognize the scent and he instantly thinks, knows, it’s a threat. It registers somewhere in his brain that he is not only able to smell things in more detail than he’d ever want to be able to do, he is following that scent, but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. He walks outside onto the porch and sees Derek, Isaac and Scott on one side of the mountain ash line and the Alphas on the other side. He doesn’t stop to think about it, doesn’t stop to question it, he just charges forward. He crosses the line like it wasn’t there to begin with and he catches one of the Alphas off guard with a quick, clean slice of his claws through the Alpha’s neck. There’s a rumbling, clawing feeling in his chest and he lets it loose. The sound he hears is a loud, fierce roar and he can’t help but feel like it doesn’t fit coming from his mouth.

He stops to think, _Wait. Claws. I.... What the hell was that?_ And he’s about to completely freak out, just altogether lose it, when another one of the Alphas charges at him, claws flying, teeth gnashing, reaching for any bit of his flesh they can reach so all thoughts of what the hell is going on are pushed aside. The Alpha, a big, brawny, mountain of a man, swipes at him clumsily and he dodges. He almost falls over in his attempt to dodge, and had he still been human, he would have fallen and landed in a big, messy heap, but as it is he only stumbles for a second. Without consciously thinking about it he bends low into a crouch and slashes out with his claws. They tear through the Alpha’s thin, threadbare t-shirt and strike at the skin and muscle beneath. They glide through the Alpha, through a person, like a steak knife cutting butter and the Alpha screams and crumbles to his knees. He’s not dying, though. He’s only down for a few seconds before he’s up on his feet again, bloody, torn shirt at odds with his whole, perfect flesh. He howls and charges at Stiles, tackling him to the ground. 

Seconds later Derek, Isaac and Scott join him and he somehow finds he’s able to keep track of them, of what they’re doing without even looking at them. He can smell them. He can hear them and he can differentiate every sound he hears. 

This distracts him thoroughly and for long enough for the Alpha to get a good strike in. The Alpha’s claws slice through his shoulder, in and then out again in one smooth motion and Stiles screams. A few feet away, Derek stops, looks over at him for a split second before letting loose a terrifyingly sharp growl and stabs the Alpha he’s fighting straight through the chest. This one falls down. He doesn’t get up. 

The Alpha that Stiles is fighting is more or less sitting on top of him now and he’s not doing anything, just sitting, waiting, for what Stiles has no idea. 

The raw, bloodied flesh of Stiles’ shoulder is, it feels like, knitting itself back together and this makes Stiles want to scream again, but this time he holds himself back. He doesn’t know what the Alpha pack’s game is, but it seems to be using distraction to get at them and Stiles won’t be providing any more. 

Scott, apparently having finished with whoever he was fighting, charges over and tackles the Alpha off of Stiles. It’s at this point that Stiles wishes he knew these werewolves’ names, not because he wants to know anything about them - he’d rather pretend they don’t exist at all - but because he’s getting irritated with having to call them all the same thing in his head.

A second later Isaac walks over and offers Stiles a hand up. Stiles takes it and gives Isaac a grateful smile. 

Then there are two Alphas left against the four of them. 

The remaining Alphas howl then turn tail and run because, clearly, they have no interest in joining their companions. 

“So...” Stiles breathes out. “What the hell?” He holds his hand, his blood covered, clawed hand up in the air and waves it back and forth. ‘What the hell is this?” 

He looks from Derek to Scott to Isaac and takes in all of their reactions. And not just the way Derek has a guilty look on his face, the way Isaac won’t look him in the eye and the way Scott won’t stop looking at him dead on but the way their scents change just a little, the way Derek’s is a little sharper than it was, the way Isaac’s is dulled and the way Scott’s is more intense. The way Scott’s eyes are as big as dinner plates. How he can hear Derek grinding his teeth and how the sound of Isaac tapping his fingers against the one clean spot on his jeans is as loud as someone screaming if he focuses on it.

He doesn’t know what any of it means, but he can sense all of it and it makes him twitch nervously. 

“Derek bit you,” says Scott and when he says it, there’s very carefully, very pointedly, no emotion in his voice. 

The only question Stiles can think to ask is, “Why?” He looks over at Derek and Derek looks back, he doesn’t look away, but all the same Stiles can tell he’s fighting not to. 

There’s a long, heavy silence before Derek says, “I had to.”


End file.
